


Tension

by StarTravel



Series: Defiance Through Tenderness [14]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Flirting, Fluff, Identity Issues, Introspection, Massage, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Neck Kissing (Kind Of), References to War Injuries, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 10:25:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17160275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarTravel/pseuds/StarTravel
Summary: Garak continues to try and solve the puzzle of Julian, while Julian takes care of Garak and adds to his confusion.





	Tension

Garak lies down on the hotel room bed with a relieved groan, shaking his wrists out as his exoskeleton creaks almost as loudly as the cast iron bed. Garak presses his lips together and shoots Julian a warning glare. He’s in no mood for jokes about his advanced age or being out of shape. Not when Julian looks borderline brittle where he stands in the doorway, smile the only thing on him that’s larger than a thimble.

 At least he’s smiling, and even if it’s fake it’s nicer to see than the constant scowl from the Defiant. That’s been missing ever since they took that first walk on the beach and Julian insisted on trying to braid his hair, followed by an afternoon of rock climbing and wandering from hot tub to wave pool while Julian tried to convince him to read the _Odyssey._

 Now Garak’s exhausted and sore and no closer to figuring out if Julian’s return to himself is genuine or a masterful lie or genuine despite Julian thinking its a masterful lie. It’s utterly frustrating in the way only Julian ever is, the other man’s smile fading a bit as he crosses the room to kneel on the edge of the bed next to Garak.

 “What happened to this scale? It’s darker than the rest.” Julian murmurs as he slides his hand up his back, smooth fingers coming to rest against a ridge just above the edge of his collar. Julian presses down carefully, almost experimentally on the scale with his thumb. Garak can’t quite hide the shudder that runs through him at that. Julian lessens the pressure along his neck, his voice coming out annoyed and clipped in a way that’s usually reserved for Quark. “ _Garak._ ”

 Garak can’t quite keep from rolling his eyes at the near lecturing tone, tilting his head up to glance at their reflection in the mirror. Julian hovers behind him, one hand resting on his neck and the other hanging to the side, surprisingly limp given how tense Julian’s mouth is. Garak scoffs low in his throat. “Its a bruise, my dear. It’s hardly worth complaining about given what a lovely day we were having.”

 “Maybe not to you, but I am a doctor.” Julian’s voice takes on a cool edge this time, gaze taking on an analytical bent as he gives the scale in question another appraising touch. “And we both know you’re not exactly forthcoming when it comes to pain. Or anything else.”

 “This isn’t a wire in my brain, Julian.” Garak keeps his voice even and light, even as he feels a surge of victory run through him at the exasperated worry in Julian’s voice. Admittedly it’s the emotion that’s most stuck with him from before the Defiant and internment camp 371, his medical concerns and understandable distrust of patients playing off phaser burns as scratches stronger than ever. But the comfort Garak takes in that worry being directed toward him, at it existing at all, are the same.

 “And thank god for that.” Julian pokes the scale again, making a tutting sound with his tongue. Then Julian shifts suddenly on the bed, until he’s no longer behind Garak but instead pressed against his side, legs bent underneath him. Julian slides a hand to his cheek, voice so suddenly tender that Garak can’t help but doubt the sincerity. “Will you at least let me heal it?”

 “You want to waste a hypospray on something that small?” Garak raises an eye ridge, taking on an air of cool judgment to try and mask his own wariness. He’s not sure if the affectionate concern in Julian’s gaze is real or if it’s mere doctorly affect. Garak will not be pitied. Not by Julian. “You humans really are spoiled, in fact -“

 Garak’s words fail him as he feels warm, chapped lips press against the injured scale, sliding across it with a reverence better fit for Bajoran worship. Julian slides his lips down across the scale, his right hand coming up to rest against his cheek. Garak lets out a low breath, not willing to speak, not wanting to break this spell by seeing the lie in Julian’s gaze or a truth that isn’t the one Garak wants from him. Eventually Julian pulls back, gaze curiously professional as though he hadn’t just been kissing the side of Garak’s neck. “It’s thicker than your other scales.”

 “That’s what happens when Cardassians get bruised.” Garak answers in a voice that holds a steadiness he doesn’t truly feel. Another thing he’s indebted to Tain for.

 “Pain only makes you stronger? That certainly sounds Cardassian.” Julian’s voice is light, though there’s an underpinning of derision that makes Garak stiffen despite the warm body slowly wrapping more and more around him. Julian’s smug judgment of Cardassian morality has become no less obnoxious over time, and there are moments where Garak wishes he could erase that sanctimonious bent from Julian’s soul.

But Garak knows the kinds of things that makes a man lose that ironclad sense of righteousness. He will not submit Julian to them unless it’s absolutely necessary. “Maybe your Federation could learn something from us.” 

 “Maybe we could.” Julian‘s voice is a whisper, some distance overtaking his expression as he shifts backwards. There’s a clinical air to his ministrations now, hands gliding across Garak’s back as though it holds no familiarity for him. His hands falter when he comes to the space where his neck ridges spread out into his shoulder, a sliver of irritated concern. “Garak, your shoulder muscles are so tight I’m surprised you haven’t pulled something.”

 “You’re not the only one who’s been affected by the war, my dear.” Garak can’t keep the churlishness out of his voice, eye ridges pressing together as he shoots Julian an almost contemptuous look. Garak doesn’t mean it, not truly, but he cannot save Julian if he chooses to let himself drown. Garak is not the hero here.

 “Trust me, I know.” Julian’s voice shakes more than before. Some of the distance goes out of his gaze as he looks over Garak to gaping wounds and slowly burning skin he can’t heal quickly enough to save everyone. Julian lets out a shuddering breath, gaze dropping down from the mirror and the memories he can’t seem to escape long enough to find himself, eyes locking onto the bruised scale. Garak wonders if he should have let Julian heal it after all. “Here, lie down.”

 Garak blinks owlishly at the suggestion, twisting around to meet Julian’s eyes. Julian gives him a weak grin, too many emotions flirting across his gaze for Garak to guess at the genuineness of any of them. Nothing is clear except the pleading tilt to Julian’s lips that has Garak sighing as he flops down onto the bed.

  It’s mere seconds before there are hands pressing against his shoulder, nimbly running over each muscle and undoing knot by knot with ease, Julian humming slightly. Garak can’t quite stop the satisfied, near moan like sound that slides out of his throat. “Where did you pick up this particular talent?”

 “Felix made it an integral part of one first holorograms he made for me.” Julian tells him in the same chipper voice he used that morning on the rocks, which makes Garak question how much of it is a lie once again. Julian kneads the muscles of his upper shoulders in a way that borders on the painful, short nails running against the edge of his neck ridges. Garak lets out a contented sigh as the tension starts to melt from his shoulder inch by inch, body surrendering to Julian’s well-honed touch.

 “Ah, so you’ve tested these techniques on all of your imaginary lady friends.” Garak forces out with a scoff, wiggling his eyebrow ridges back and forth even though Julian can’t see his face from this angle. He tries to erase the satisfaction from his voice as Julian lets out a rough laugh, hands curling into the soft velvet of his tunic.

 Julian stops the massage suddenly, and Garak twists his head up to try and catch the other man’s gaze. But Julian’s already there, craning his neck and lifting himself up on his elbows so he’s eye to eye with Garak, despite being upside down. Julian grins, something coming a light in his gaze as his voice drops half an octave. “Felix, actually.”

**Author's Note:**

> Questions? Comments? :)


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